Poems (Scudder)/Three Sonnets to Beatrice
THREE SONNETS TO BEATRICE
I
And didst thou never plan to hold his gaze With girlish tricks—a loosened braid let slip The netted coif—or wistful curve of lip—Or flower-glimpse of half averted face? Didst never wonder if the clinging grace Of silks became thee better than the stiff Brocades peacock or primrose colored? If Sheer lawn faint-patterned as the silver haze Above the meadow daisies hid too much That tender hollow of thy throat where lay The rosary's nacred spheres like beaded cream On milk—and didst thou never feel a touch Of anger when his glances dared not stray To cheek or mouth he only kissed in dream?
II
And didst thou never rise from midnight sleep Ere thou wert wedded to Simone—steal Barefoot across the chamber floor, and feel Chill petals of the moonlight drifting deep Between thy breasts' warm curves? Didst never sweep The curtain folds aside to gaze into The stillness of the night whose limpid blue Even as a wall of sapphire did thee keep From him who still wrought at his lovely rhymes Of thee and of the happy maids who were Thy comrades, by the slowly failing lamp Less glowing than his heart—and were there times When they who wakened thee at dawn would fear Flushed, tear-stained cheeks and maiden pillow damp?
III
And didst thou never feel a secret fear Lest one of thy girl friends—as Vanna blithe So sumptuous of bosom and so lithe Of limb, with that broad glory of her hair And winsome face, the quick smile woven there With pout or frown—such luscious mingling shows The inner petalled sweetness of a rose—Might more loveworthy in his eyes appear Than thy pure fragile beauty scarce of earth, The wide Madonna-brows, the locks' pale fall? —Thy poet knew a jewel; he decrees More than the diamond or opal's worth The pearl whose trembling iris-lights recall The wonder and the terror of the seas.